


The Time We Are Given

by GeneParmesan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Verges on AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11382354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneParmesan/pseuds/GeneParmesan
Summary: Lilith Trevelyan's adventures as the Inquisitor.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> A full telling of my personal DA:I head-canon! ... Eventually! The patient observations in this chapter were borrowed from the Codex entries found throughout Haven, in the hopes that it makes it a little more immersive. This is my first time writing creatively, so comments and suggestions are much appreciated! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying the challenge of writing. The posting of new chapters may be a little unpredictable - I'm a compulsive editor. Tags will be added as soon as the characters/relationships appear!

**Patient Observations:**

_Vain hope: Someone better at this than me takes over before the survivor expires. Notes in case._

**-Day 1-**

_Clammy. Shallow breathing. Pulse over-fast. Not responsive. Pupils dilated. Mage says her scarring “mark” is thrumming with unknown magic. Wish we could station a templar in here, just in case._

Lilith stood upon an endless, grey sea.  
Waves roared around her, and the spray soaked her clothes.  
How could the sea block out the sun like this?

She took a step forward and a wave engulfed her.  
She kept walking into wave after wave, going nowhere.

**-Day 2-**

_Pulse becoming more normal, breathing has slowed. Still unresponsive; careful drop-feed of prep. Elfroot extract to hasten her recovery. A lot of thrashing. Mutters about too many eyes. Something about “the grey.” Encouraging?_

Lilith was walking on the waves again, but she couldn’t remember how she got there. The ocean seemed to stretch forever in every direction; each possible destination an endless expanse on a seemingly unreachable horizon. The storm above her sent a blinding crack of green lightning through the clouds above her and she couldn't help but try to look at it. _Green lightning?_ That didn’t seem right, but she couldn’t decide what it should have been.

She stood on the sea. She knew she needed to go, to leave and be somewhere else, but she couldn’t remember where she needed to be. The wind, violent and ruthless, tossed waves and sharp pellets of ocean spray against her. It soaked her clothes and left a chill that went through to her bones. _Well, if I don't find somewhere to go soon I'll freeze to death, and then it won't matter where I am_ , she thought. She drew her traveling cloak more tightly around her shoulders and looked around for something to show her the way - a road or boat or marker or anything - but there was nothing. Nothing but the frothing sea and growing storm.

Her eyes kept searching the grey and dismal distance. She could smell rain gathering on the breeze, heavy and damp. The storm would unleash it’s fury soon, all the more reason to leave this place as fast as possible. _But which way is the way out?_ Lightning cracked violently behind her, and she turned to face it. Something about the storm was starting to feel wrong. As it grew, so did the feeling that she was being watched, and whatever was doing the watching was making her hair stand on end. She scanned the distance with greater purpose, desperate to be anywhere but here. Her gaze fell upon a darkening part of the storm. Her stomach sank immediately, and instinct begged her not to go, but she _needed_ to go, so she walked.

Even from a distance she knew her . The waves there were much darker than the surrounding sea, and they seemed to toss and turn of their own volition. The wind had shifted to her back as she walked, an ominous force pushing her to an even more ominous destination. She was practically sprinting by the time she reached the waves, and it was almost too late when she realized they weren’t waves at all - they were spiders! She skidded to a halt at the edge of their nest and gazed around in horror, thousands of beady yellow eyes watching her as she stood at the edge of their world. The spiders clicked and squirmed as they climbed on top of each other, collapsing from the sheer weight of their swollen bodies only to start over again and again. _Perhaps it isn’t too late to turn around_ she thought, spinning desperately to find some other way forward.

It was too late. The spiders must have been behind her before she had even reached the nest, for the way behind her was closed. The darkness of the storm was growing, and the spiders swarmed in a black mass around her. Lightning flashed, and for a moment a path was illuminated. _Of course. I’ll use the lightning to guide my way._

Lilith worked her way slowly through the maze of spiders, one flash of lightning at a time. She could feel their eyes on the back of her neck as they swarmed, ebbing and flowing around her as though she stood upon a great shore. It began to rain. Tremendous thunder rolled above her, and with a deafening crack, lightning struck one of the throbbing walls. The spiders squealed and shrieked, their flaming bodies falling through the night sky. The great beasts surged around their fallen comrades, their fury as palpable on the air as the smell of burning flesh. They swarmed and clicked furiously, bumping into her legs and trying to climb up her back. A great panic blossomed in her chest and she ran, stumbling into wall after wall of the raging monsters. A group of them threw themselves against her and she fell. She kicked out and felt her foot make contact, but for every one spider she managed to knock away, two sprung up to take its place. They smothered her, fangs tearing at her leathers and skin. Pain seared through her body as they bit her, their poison spreading like hot acid through her veins. She could feel it gathering at the edges of her mind, and her vision began to fade. _This must mean it's time to go_ , she thought, and she let the darkness of the spiders bury her alive. 

She was all but gone when the searing white light appeared, sending the spiders on a shrieking retreat into the storm. Then the light spoke.

“Take my hand, Lilith” it said. Lilith was so heavy with poison that she could barely open her eyes. She willed her mouth to move, to form the words that her mind was already screaming. _I can’t._  
“You must,” the light said.

She rolled over, crying out as the movement stirred the fire in her veins. The rain fell heavily on her back and head, its cold ribbons lacing through her hair and across her skin, cool against the raging heat inside her. She looked up to the light, blinding after so long a time spent in the dark. It stood at the top of a great stone staircase, reaching down to her. She began to crawl, step by agonizing step, making her way up. She climbed for what seemed an eternity, and as she got closer the light at the top of the stairs began to dim. She could hear the spiders stirring, the bravest of which had already begun their ascent. She pushed on as she felt them trying to find purchase on her wet clothes. When she finally felt another hand it was too late. 

Always too late.


	2. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas takes Lilith to meet Cassandra.

_-Day 3; morning-_

_Less thrashing. Some response to stimulus. Vitals seem solid. Two attempts so far by locals to break into the chantry to kill my patient. All this work to save her life, and will they just execute her? Will inform Lady Cassandra I expect her to wake before the morn._

Lilith was falling again. When she hit the ground she realized she had finally fallen somewhere that wasn’t the ocean, but after the impact she wasn’t sure that was an improvement. It felt as though her body had shattered against the earth, molten tendrils of electricity jumping from piece to piece as they cracked and whipped through her. Her body convulsed in protest and her mind was blinded by pain. She wanted nothing more than to let go, to let the shadows at the corners of her mind to carry her to a place of rest.

 _Surely I must be dying,_ she thought.

In the depths of those shadows, a sudden coolness touched her brow. It gently soaked into her skin, and like a fine silk it weaved itself into the electricity in her blood. The ground around her grew softer as she drifted off to sleep. The next time she fell she was walking on the ocean again. 

_-Day 3; afternoon-_

Solas stood outside his tent in the woods and gazed up at the rift. The gaping tear in the Fade burned brightly against the gray storm clouds that had gathered around it. Demons wreathed in green flames hurled themselves to the world below, and for a single moment Solas was left wondering if all he had worked for would be worth it in the end. 

He was snapped from his reveries by the sound of a soldier approaching through the brush.

“Apostate!” he called. “I have a missive from Seeker Pentaghast.” The soldier nervously extended the scroll to him. Solas noted that he was standing as far from him as possible, and by the time his fingers had brushed the paper the soldier was walking briskly toward the main camp. He let out an exasperated sigh. No one trusted him. Then again, he supposed, they had no good reason to do so. 

Solas unravelled the note. 

_Apostate,_

_I received word from the infirmary that the prisoner is expected to wake soon. While admirable, a successful attempt on her life would leave us without any information regarding the creation of the breach. You will move her to the watchtower by the main road to the temple._

_Do not let her die before I speak with her. She is no use to me dead - yet._

He was sure that moving her would only set back her recovery, but he could not argue with the need to relocate her to a secure location. The infirmary - if it could even be called that - was little more than a cloth held up by a few sticks, and three separate attempts were made on her life only yesterday. Cloth would not keep her safe. But could anything really? She was doomed the minute the mark appeared on her hand.

He entered his tent, gathered his staff and travelling pack, and made for the main camp. 

It did not take him long to reach what had become the Seeker's base of operations. The tents had been erected with whatever materials were on hand, and a war table sat in the center. It was nothing more than some driftwood propped up on piles of stone and debris, but it gave off an air of authority nonetheless. Solas was surprised to see soldiers running up and down the campsite. Carts had been set up in between the rows of tents, and each was being loaded with weapons and supplies. It was then that he realized the Seeker had other motives for moving the prisoner closer to the rift. _She must be moving the troops to the front lines._

He made his way to the infirmary on the far side of the camp, set well away from the main road. Its thin tarp was stained with blood and covered in dirt, and healers were carrying crates to the cart outside. He lifted the flap and entered, making his way to healer's desk. Adan was huddled over a list of supplies and nearly jumped out of his skin at Solas' touch.

“Makers balls, Solas! I don't have time for any of your nonsense right now, so make it quick. The Seeker has us moving this whole bloody operation _closer_ to the fightin', and I've got enough to worry about without you takin' up more of my time." Solas handed him Cassandra's note and relief washed over Adan's face. 

"I’ll be glad to be rid of her.” He said, running his hand across his head. “The other wounded have already been transported, and I'd be damned if I were responsible for movin' her. You'll find her on the other side of those blankets there.” He gestured vaguely behind him as he returned to his list.

Solas found her on the floor toward the back of the tent without a bed or blankets. He kneeled beside her and began to pick her up, only to find her clothes drenched in sweat. With a frown, he set her down and pulled an extra cloak from his pack. The move would be far riskier now that her fever had returned. After securing the cloak around her, he lifted her from the ground and shot an angry look at Adan as he exited the tent. All his work to save her life, and they would just cast her aside!

He cast a barrier around them as he walked back to the main road. In reality he didn’t anticipate any trouble, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. He was more worried that exposure to the harsh air of the mountain would cause the prisoner to have some sort of relapse, but she seemed to be holding up. He walked among the solders on their way to the watchtower, but despite being surrounded by men and women that had once attempted to take the life of the woman in his arms, the two of them were practically invisible. No one cared who she was anymore. And they certainly didn't care about an elven mage. What threat did an unconscious woman pose when compared to the demons that lurked before them? 

Just as Solas had reached the final hill, the tear in the sky sent another wave of demons onto the earth. The mark on the prisoner's hand flared in response and she began to shake. Thunder roared from the breach, and green lightning flashed above their heads. The soldiers near him started shouting orders, and they ran to begin fortifying the nearby bridge. The smell of burning flesh brought his attention to the prisoner again - the mark was spreading again. He ran to the nearest tree and knelt with her, gathered a healing spell in the palms of his hands, and attempted to contain it. It would keep growing so long as the tear remained in the sky. He hoped it would all be over soon, for her sake.


End file.
